


Safest sounds.

by weedlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bottom Harry, Crossdressing, F/M, Feminine Harry, Harry talks a lot, Love/Hate, M/M, Prince Harry - Freeform, Royalty, Top Louis, but he's clever, he looks stupid, louis is cold, nobleman!louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:56:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weedlarry/pseuds/weedlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a prince. Louis is a duke. They don't appreciate each other. Harry has more enemies than he thinks. Louis is confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safest sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been soooo long since I've written something so excuse the crappy style. It'll probably be a 3 parts story! Enjoy xoxo Opinions are welcome xx

He wasn’t an ordinary boy. Actually, he was never an ordinary person, to begin with. Perhaps the only ordinary thing about him was his name, a simple Harold that the closest people to him liked to shorten to a simpler Harry.

Harry wasn’t a ordinary person, he was a special person. He was a prince, belonging to an ancient bloodline of monarchs and emperors, known for their conquest, pride and military abilities.

Also, he wasn’t an ordinary boy, he was a weird boy. While his peers were busy learning how to be proper fighters, he, on the other side, leaned towards the feminine world. Clothes, hairstyles, cosmetic trends, rich silks, gossip and tea parties were what he lived for. If he had been a peasant, Harry would be considered an outcast but since he was royalty, every one of his whims was tolerated. It was easy to tolerate it because he rarely showed up publicly, too.

He didn’t live in the capital, in his older brother’s court, but had a mansion of his own, with his own little court, his own little world. He never knew why he has lived there for all he could remember, but he never gave it much thought anyway. He liked his own castle, away from the city, away from everything. He’d pay his brother a visit or two per year, during some formal event, but that was it. Those few visits were enough of a proof about the fraternal tension between Harry and his majesty. They didn’t grow up together, never played together, didn’t share anything apart from their blood, royal blood, that proved to be less thick than any other blood. King Brandon didn’t appreciate the way his brother was, a ‘sword swallowing, dress wearing, good for nothing coward’ according to his own words.

Sword swallower, because of course, everybody assumed that the prince naturally appreciated the romantic company of men. He also liked to cross-dress, sometimes, and could easily be mistaken for a girl thanks to his soft, feminine facial features, and was, on top of that, not interested in being a high-ranked army commander like most royals, violence was just not his cup of tea.

A few days before his eighteenth birthday, to which the prince has been preparing a huge ball ever since he blew on the seventeenth candles decorating the cakes of his previous birthday party, the prince received a letter, from the king himself.

It was cold, short and above all, depressing for Harry who isolated himself for the rest of the day, right after reading the letter. He asked to be left alone and not to be disturbed, refused to talk to his friends and spent the afternoon in his apartments, sighing to himself as he sat in the balcony of his room, staring at the calm waves that animated the sea that bordered his castle north.

The letter actually announced the arrival of Louis, the king’s loyal counselor and friend, who probably holds more titles than the prince himself. Duke, minister in charge of the army, high ranked military man, one of the best sword fighters in the country, and probably holder of more accomplishments Harry was not even aware of.

The problem was, Louis seemed to hold an unexplained disgust and hatred towards Harry. Ever since he was a kid, whenever they met, Louis would make it his mission to embarrass and humiliate Harry as much as he could, to the point where the younger boy would run to hide in his mother’s petticoats, hot tears falling down his rosy cheeks. Harry also hated Louis, who actually never stepped inside the young prince’s residence. The reason behind his visit was not stated and that is what made Harry’s mind go wild. The duke was certainly not paying him a courtesy visit, and even if he did, he would send a letter himself.

Harry, however, only remained gloomy for a single day and quickly forgot about the duke. He only gave orders to prepare a proper room for the guest then came back to his own business. He has been planning on organizing the longest, most luxurious birthday party his generation would witness. It will last a week. Nights were for partying, drinking, dancing and gambling, the mornings for resting and the afternoon for other fun activities, including theater, opera and music shows, wild animals exhibitions or simply swimming. The thing he was the most excited about was the first night, it was a masquerade in which no identity would be revealed. It also happened to be a day after the duke’s arrival, not that Harry cared.

Actually, he did care. Just a tiny bit.

“Do not let the thought of them spoil your mood.” He mumbled to himself as he took a sip of bubbly, his naked body enjoying the warmth of a milk bath that supposedly helped perfect the paleness of his skin.

When the milk cooled; he rang a small golden bell before hearing steps coming his direction. A middle aged woman in an elegant black and white uniform helped him out of the porcelain tub then wrapped around his frail body a soft towel. She escorted him to his private bedroom in complete silence and only spoke when she finally locked the door and was certain they were alone.

“A messenger came today, said he had something for you.” She spoke in a curious voice while reaching for a piece of paper inside her front pocket. He was sitting on top of his persian silk covered bed. “Read it for me, will you?” he asked, dreamy.

“It is from Duke Tomlinson.” Harry rolled his eyes once he heard the name. He then listened to the letter, which was full of formalities and words he was sure Louis only used to appear even more arrogant than he already was. He was just announcing that he would probably arrive a day later than expected. “Brilliant.” Harry muttered to himself in annoyance. “Did somebody arrive this morning?” He quickly diverted the topic to a more joyful one.

“Oh yes.” She then recited no less than twenty five names, some of which Harry never even heard of. “Is that all?” He asked with a disappointed tone, his full lips forming a sad pout. The maid felt sorry for him, knowing exactly whom he has been expecting to come.

See, Harry was in love. He made the mistake of falling in love with somebody much older and living a life way too different from his. It was a knight in his brother’s guard, from a well-known family, the Paynes, to be precise. Harry met him for the first time, when he was only fifteen, in his brother’s court and hasn’t stopped thinking about him since then. During his last visit to the capital, Harry made an even bigger mistake, admitting his feelings to the man whose only response was a horrified stare. Since then, ser Liam avoided Harry at all costs and left all of his letters unanswered. It saddened Harry deeply, who was incapable of hiding what happened, especially from his nan and his girlfriends who shared his life in the mansion.

To this day, he was still thinking of Liam, and he was hoping that some day, the knight would reciprocate the young prince’s feelings.

*

“Dear Lord, help me.” Louis muttered to himself, trying to keep his cool, after realizing that nobody was present to welcome him. It was an insult to him, an outrage. What a lack of decency and protocol! Only a guard was there to escort him inside where a maid showed him the way to his room. She did not even accompany him! Could the people inside that court get any more disrespectful of his status?

“Oh, great!” He spoke once he entered the room the prince gave him. Hot pink wallpapers, flowered sheets, golden furniture, as if he were a girl not a man. It even smelled like a mixture of lavender and musk. The candles were not your typical creamy white, but a soft pink that made Louis roll his eyes harder.

His suitcases were later brought in by a servant.

Louis decided to take a nap and talk to the prince later. He already had a speech in mind to make him regret his nonchalance. He was a prince, true, but that didn’t give him the right to treat important guests as if they were insignificant. It was a disgrace. The king himself accorded importance to Louis, so who Harry thought he was?

Louis’ nap was short. A deafening music put a brutal end to his sleepy state. “What in the name of God?” He asked himself in confusion, as he got up. He didn’t even wash his face or change his clothes and headed directly towards the corridor where he only saw some maids.

“What is happening here?” He asked one of them, who only shot him a weirded-out stare and passed her way, not even answering him. He completely lost his words. Never has a servant ignored his words, not even when he was a toddler. He promised himself that that day would be that maid’s last inside the residence, before deciding to find out what was happening himself.

The mix of violins, pianos and cellos led him downstairs, towards the ball room, which left him speechless at first. The room was immense and crowded. No less than two hundred masked people were joyfully dancing at the center, the rest were chatting, eating, drinking.

Louis finally remembered that the prince’s birthday happened around that same time of the year and slapped himself mentally for accepting to see him while he was too busy partying and not giving a care in the world.

“Oh well.” He murmured before grabbing a glass of bubbly out of the tray one of the servants were carrying. Being the only one without a mask on, he spotted the attention of many. And since he had his share of beauty and manliness that would make any girl fawn over him, it wasn’t long before some damsels spoke to him, asking him about whom he might be and why wasn’t he bending by the dress code. The girls were beautiful, even with hidden faces. They all carried themselves with grace and elegance, their voices sweet, and their foreign accents, lovable.

Against all odds, Louis found himself enjoying a party to which he hasn’t even been invited. He even stopped trying to look for prince Harry and forgot for a moment about all the disgrace he faced inside the castle upon his arrival. He even danced, which was a thing he rarely did, and again found it to be very amusing, despite his tiredness.

A few cups of Champagne and less than two hours later, he was dancing with a delightful, green eyed beauty. She had curly chocolate coloured hair that fell to her shoulders, sinfully plump lips tinted in a shade of hot red. Her skin was pale but her cheeks were reddish. She didn’t talk but the smile on her face melted Louis’ heart. She was by far the most beautiful girl he danced with. Her hands felt delicately soft against Louis’ rough ones, and her dress was simple, yet elegant and graceful. It was less plump than every other girls’, way more simplistic, made out of black lace that covered her slim arms and bust and gold damask for the long bottom that she smoothly dragged behind her. Her mask was black as well and only hid the contour of her gorgeous, emerald eyes, however, it was enough to blur her identity as Louis couldn’t exactly make up her features.

“Would you mind telling me your name, my lady?” He whispered softly, leaning more against her, his mouth almost touching the pearls in her earrings. She giggled silently then bit her lips, as if to stop her voice from exiting her throat, revealing perfect teeth and a pair of dimples, adding to her insane charm.

She abruptly let go of his hand and exited the suffocating mass of people dancing, before looking back for a minute, as if urging him to follow her. He was a bit confused but followed her steps anyway, until he found himself in one of the gardens of the castle. She was waiting for him, sitting on a bench, right in front of a bed of dark red roses. The moonlight hitting her made her look ethereal. His heart skipped a beat.

He rushed and sat next to her, leaving a small distance between their thighs. “I am Louis Tomlinson, duke of-” He started, knowing that he has never met that girl and that she probably didn’t have a clue of whom he might be. “I know who you are.” It was a small whisper that barely disturbed the peacefulness of the gardens. “Oh.” Louis only spoke, ruffling his feathery hair. “What about you?” She grinned then shrugged. Louis guessed that she was playful and that she wouldn’t expose her identity very easily.

“You won’t take off your mask, will you?” He smiled at her upon receiving the same shy answer as before. “Maybe I will have to take it off myself, then.” He cheekily replied. He could notice how her cheeks reddened even harder.

“I wish I could see the rest of your face.” He spoke sweetly, finally looking at her flawless profile. “I bet you are even more beautiful than what I imagine.” She fluttered her long eyelashes, too shy to even look at him.

“May I kiss you?” He suddenly asked, in a confident, yet delicate voice. The surprise on her face was apparent. Her jaw dropped upon hearing his words, surely never expecting such bold words. He was about to approach her but hesitated after noticing her shock.

“D-Did I offend you?” He questioned, feeling a bit frightened of how far he was taking things with a girl whose face he never even saw, but again, a kiss was nothing compared to the duke’s numerous one night stands and quick lovers.

It took her quite some time to react, and to his surprise, she leaned faintly towards him and gave the corner of his mouth a small, hesitant peck before she returned back to her place, the apparent part of her face redder than ever. 

A minute of silence passed by.

“Are you a foreigner, then?” He changed the topic, wanting to know who she might be. She only shook her head, making her silky curls bounce on top of her collarbones. “Are you a friend of the prince?”

She hesitated for a bit before answering negatively. “We know each other vaguely.” Her voice was still barely audible and more shaky. “Thank God.” Louis sighed. “I honestly cannot fathom how that boy can have any friends at all. He’s so- so weird and eccentric? Have you ever held a conversation with him? The boy is brainless, absolutely mindless, I tell you. He can’t even hold a sword or aim right.”

The girl seemed a bit uneasy, so Louis stopped the chatter. “Are your friends waiting for you in there?” He asked her to break the awkward silence, pointing at the castle. She nodded before getting up. Louis didn’t know why she suddenly became so upset, but he stood up too.

She was about to start walking when he retained her forearm, forcing her to face him. “Will I ever see you again?” He breathed, tilting his head forward, as if expecting another kiss from her. She diverted her head, avoiding him. He loosened his grip around her, not wanting to force anything on the delicate creature.

She felt him slip something inside the palm of her hand. “Wear it some time, so I can recognize you, please.” He pleaded, but she didn’t mind his words and rushed back to the residence, her small heels clicking against the soft stone dust surfaced path.

*

“Why is my little kitten sad?” Harry was hiding under the sheets of his immense bed but was able to feel a small hand caress his shoulder. He guessed, after hearing the voice that matched it, that it was Sarah, one of the numerous girls Harry liked to spend his time with at the castle. Now, looking at it, he never knew which family was Sarah, or most of his friends were even from, they just grew up with him, all girls, inside that mansion, for some reason, always present, never leaving his side.

“Just tired.” He mumbled, resisting a bit her attempt at uncovering him, which didn’t last as long as he hoped. She soon got the upper hand and took the sheets away from his face. He had wiped off his make up, took off the dress and the jewels, even the hair extensions. Now, wearing nothing but a simple white night gown, he looked like he had been crying. “What happened?” She shot him a concerned look which he only shrugged off, avoiding to look at her. 

“I saw you dancing with- um, what was his name again? Tomlinson, right? I thought you didn’t like the man. You seemed delighted, though-”

“I still don’t like him.” He interrupted her, taking a stern tone that was unfamiliar to him. “He’s not into boys, right?” She thought she might have guessed the reason why he was so upset, and well, what she said wasn’t wrong but her reasoning was. “He’s not into me, especially.” He let out a fake snark. “Don’t let him spoil your mood. You should be downstairs, enjoying your time and drinking, not here, weeping.”

He smiled faintly before straitening his back and taking a sitting position. “I kissed him.” He suddenly said, hiding a mischievous smirk, a tone of satisfaction in his voice. Her jaw fell to the floor. “Aren’t you a little minx?” She playfully hit his forearm with her beautifully embroidered fan, faking a shocked expression.

“He thought I was a girl. He even gave me this.” He chuckled showing her a ring that he passed around his right thumb. It was a silver ring, with a huge scarlet stone decorating it. On the inside of the jewel were engraved his initials, pretty pretentious, Harry thought. “And what happened after that?” She asked with so much curiousity that it seemed staged.

“He started talking about- about me, I mean me, Harry. He said some mean things.” His smile suddenly disappeared and his lips started to quiver. She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a long hug that she hoped would make him feel better. He was too sensitive for his own good and there was nothing she could do apart from comforting him.

*

“Ser Louis, what a pleasure to have you here. Were you present last night? I wasn’t sure I have seen you, but again, everybody was disguised. Tell me, did you have breakfast yet?” Louis was still not up, but as soon as he heard the voice, he jolted up, dumbfounded. “We eat a lot of fish, here. Would you like some crab for breakfast? Have you ever tasted it? It’s flesh is so tender, you’d love it. What do you drink? Tea? My favourite is gold tea, the Chinese emperor’s daughter gave it to me last year for my birthday. Do you believe it’s actual gold- and tea? My two favourite things in the world, how lovely!”

The speed at which Harry was talking was getting on everyone of Louis’ nerves, especially since he hasn’t slept until after dawn, meaning he only had four hours of sleep before the kid barged into his room, followed by two tiny dogs whose barks were even more irritating that his voice.

He had the audacity to wake Louis up by uncovering the windows and opening them and then ask him if he had eaten and talk for ages about what he liked to eat while he was still in bed, trying to recover his senses.

“This is highly inappropriate.” Louis spat, trying to cover his naked torso with the girly sheets of his bed. “Yes, I know, having breakfast so early in the morning is so inappropriate, but I thought people from the capital were early risers. Was I wrong?” Louis only let out a tired moan as he ruffled his hair. “How do you like your room? One of the best rooms here, have you appreciated the view? Very refreshing to look up and see the shore. It gets quite frightening in the winter, though. With all the storms.” He turned around to face Louis but soon got distracted by his new pets.

“Have you met them? They’re pugs, a present from the royal english family-” The boy was unbelievable. “Do you even know that we’re at war with England?” Louis was outraged. “I don’t care much about politics, honestly. Wars and… such. Who got time for that?” He couldn’t be serious. “And I was thinking, I wanted to name them Louis and Brandon, fits them, doesn’t it? The fatter one will be Louis.”

“I am- I am not fat.”

“I was talking about the dog.” Harry laughed before crouching down to kiss his new pets. Finally, Louis was able to properly open his eyes to see the same, pale, thin, careless, annoying boy he saw less than a year ago. His hair was wilder and fairer than he remembers, probably due to the summer sun’s rays hitting him through the window he was right next to. He wasn’t tan though, he never tanned, and stood as the complete opposite of Louis’ rather brownish skin. Also, a detail which Louis never failed to miss, he still acted like a girl, an annoying spoiled princess, to be precise.

Louis cleared his throat before deciding to leave the bed. Harry was still playing with his new friends without a care in the world. It was no use trying to knock some sense into him and explain to him that it was wrong to enter people’s room like that, even if it was inside his own castle. “If your highness doesn’t mind, I would love to bathe now. Alone.”

“Oh.” Harry stood up too, one of the dogs between his arms, and was about to start rambling before his eyes set on the muscular torso of the duke, setting him completely off-guard. “Uh-” He stammered before recovering his senses. The man in front of him was confused and hesitated to even move. “I shall get going, then. Come to the grand hall when you’re finished, please.” 

*

“Your seat, sir.” Louis could not fathom how Harry knew the people he has invited to his birthday celebration. The breakfast table was longer than any of those he has seen at any royal reception, and the food, that mass of exotic and extravagant meals could end hunger all throughout the country. It was unbelievable.

Louis’ name was embroidered on his napkin and carved in the silverware he’d be using. The plates also carried his initials. Even the ones at the royal palace weren’t that elaborate. He was seated between two foreigners, probably from the orient, even if they looked quite different. At his right, sat a far-easterner, perhaps a Japanese lady, recognizable from her milky skin, black thick and soft hair and her monolid dark eyes. She was sipping a cup of tea while chatting with somebody else, in a language too complex for Louis to understand. At his left was a man, Harry’s age probably. He looked odd. His features were mixed, he looked Mediterranean, Spanish perhaps but Louis swore he recognized the language he heard him talk. Persian, surely.

At the head of the table, a few seats away, sat the princess. Louis even laughed to himself, seeing the small tiara sitting on top of his curls. He looked so feminine and ridiculous, Louis couldn’t understand how he got everybody’s eyes on him in that room. He had all sorts of pastry on top of his plate, barely untouched.

He sighed to himself and started to actually try to guess the identity of the girl that made him think of her all night long. He was looking for a young woman, fair complexion, green eyes and brown hair. He scanned the people in front of him, every one that his eye could reach but got quickly confused. There were too many green eyed brunette beauties at that table. He honestly needed her to show herself, instead. At least wear the ring he gave her.

And yes, he was that desperate. See, Louis has been feeling empty, seeing all his friends settling down and fathering children while he returned to a cold bed every night. Yesterday, when he danced with that lady, when he inhaled her scent and held her hand, touched her skin and felt her lips against his, he got infatuated, him, the cold hearted soldier, that has never believed in love or romantic passion, there he was, hoping one of the girls would give him a sign, a tiny little one, so he could be at peace again.

But there was no sign. Not even during lunch, or the stupid drinking game the prince set up to pass time. Louis didn’t even know why he was attending the activities, he could be inside his room, reading or writing reports to the king, but then again, he had to observe the prince to find something to write reports on. Also, he was still desperate for that beautiful lady. So he found himself stuck between a bunch of teenagers, sipping some exquisite french wine as he stared around him, analyzing every detail.

“Am I famous?” Harry asked one of the girls surrounding him, a flute of champagne between his lean fingers. “Yes.” One of them giggled. “Oh, am I unpleasant company?” He questioned again. They all nodded, their chuckles never stopping. Louis could read on the piece of paper glued on the princes forehead, some lord’s name, probably one he didn’t know existed, but was curious to know of Harry’s reasoning. “Um, am I- huh, am I fat?” He giggled too before his hand reached a box of cinnamon biscuits to eat from. “Yup.” Another girl answered, popping the last letter as hard as she could. “Am I married?” “Do I have exactly three children?” “Am I related to the royal family?” All of the answers were positive. “Do I think of myself as the king of the world when my country is actually falling into pieces?” That one question caught Louis off guard. “Um, not sure about that.” One of them laughed. “Oh, shame. I was about to say King Brandon.”

Louis’ blood ran cold in his veins. Naming his dog Brandon was one thing, but his words were another thing. Publicly speaking ill of his brother and the state of the country was what confirmed some of Louis’ suspicions. He deserted the gardens where they were all sitting, facing the waves of the sea, and entered the castle, where he waited.

Once he saw people returning back inside, probably to prepare themselves for the evening, he immediately ran towards the upper floor where the prince’s room would surely be. He knocked twice without ever receiving an answer.

So, he entered.

At first, he was baffled by the decor. It was honestly not what he was expecting, subtle and simple, everything a creamy beige minus some pink flowers sprinkled here and there in the cushions and the curtains. The bed was large and it’s head was made out of fine, shiny leather. The carpet felt soft even under Louis’ boots. It smelled of wood and sand, flowers and waves, lavender and salt. A mix between the summer beach and the spring forest, the carelessness of the first, the wilderness of the second, perhaps a representative of the prince himself.

“What are you doing here?” A small voice asked from behind him, and while it didn’t sound as angry as Louis expected, the latter still felt a bit afraid to have been caught in the act of rubbing his nose in the prince’s private matters. “I wished to speak with your highness.” Louis mumbled, never turning around. “Oh, please, be my guest.” Louis only heard footsteps before finally reacting and finally setting his eyes on the prince. He had changed his attire, wearing now a simple cotton white shirt and tight black pants with fluffy pink slippers, which added the ridiculous element to the plain outfit.

Harry sat on top of one of the velvet creamy sofa that were placed a few feet at his bed’s right, right next to some door, probably his bathroom, Louis guessed. Louis mimicked his actions.

As always, the prince had a snack in handy, and kept nibbling on french macarons as he faked interest in what Louis had to say. “Your highness, the words you have said earlier, during that game… They were- How shall I put it? Uncalled for. Unacceptable. Inappropriate. Especially in front of strangers, potential enemies.”

The prince only smiled and for once, his smile wasn’t that foolish one Louis was used to. It was a rather twisted grin that made Louis feel insecure. “Did I say anything that wasn’t true?”

“It was a twisted truth, your high-”

“Why are you here, my lord? Surely not to attend my birthday party. You didn’t even have the decency to bring a present. It’s called common courtesy, which you obviously lack. Now again, back to our subject. Why are you here?” Louis was caught off guard. He was used to a childish, babbling, warm Harry, not the serious stone he so longly tried to make out of him. “We have to cut our budgets, for the war. We’ll be beginning with yours. Your spending is unnecessary.”

“Most of what you see here is a present, your lordship. I am not as stupid as you think I might be, I know how to spend well and wisely my budget. I have financial advisers. I create work for craftsmen, here. I feed their families. I also create diplomatic relationships. Relationships that you and my brother enjoy to destroy through war over a parcel of dirt. Nobody will lay a finger on my money.” Louis was baffled by the stern answer the prince gave him. “For how long will you stay?” His voice was suddenly sweeter. “Not longer than a week, I hope.”

“I hope so too.”

*

After that, the tension between Harry and Louis was at it’s peeking point. The atmosphere was so thick, a knife was capable of cutting through it. They rarely spoke, only to exchange some formalities. However, Harry had his eye on Louis. He, of course, didn’t believe what Louis told him, the budget thing. See, Harry was clever, actually, more intelligent than anybody could ever imagine. He liked to pass for stupid, it was easier for him that way. Actually, he didn’t even have to make any effort, for some reason people liked to label everybody with feminine tendencies and a taste for parties and entertainment, as brainless.

He also knew what happened between the walls of his castle, and more specifically, what was happening inside Louis’ room. He could at any moment know what the duke was up to, he just chose not to. Perhaps, out of common courtesy, perhaps to avoid having an unhealthy obsession with him. He already has been occupying most of his thoughts, his mind sadistically rewinding whenever it felt the most inappropriate, the scene of the kiss. That small, innocent, sweet kiss. Harry’s first ever kiss.

However, Harry read every one of Louis’ letters and was aware of what was happening around him. His brother suspected him of treason, thinking that the prince has sided with the Englishmen. It made Harry chuckle. They even thought Harry was planning to overthrow his brother. Louis’ conclusions were nonsense, because Harry truly never thought of power, he never wanted the throne and was always hoping for his brother to father as much sons as possible so he’d stop being one of the main heirs.

Harry also read his brother’s replies. It was easy to do so since he had copies of both the king and the duke’s seals, made by some brilliant craftsmen of the surrounding villages. He knew that Louis would ask- demand, actually, that Harry went with him to the capital.

It happened on the last day of the celebration. Louis was on his nerves, for some reason and Harry wanted to make him snap, by asking way too many questions about the reason behind his brother’s request. “Did he miss me? I bet the kids miss me. They certainly did enjoy my tea parties. You look a bit pale, are you alright?”

“Yes.” Louis mumbled, staring at his feet, waiting for the prince to exit the room so he could mourn in peace the death of a love that never had the chance to be born. “Oh well, where was I? Oh, why am I invited over to the palace? Look, I am not getting out until you tell me. My head is as hard as a rock. It’s a bit odd, don’t you think? My brother never invites me, only my mother does. Did he remember my birthday, perhaps? Or, mother pressured him into inviting me. That's a plausible theory.” Louis bit his lips to retain himself from screaming for him to shut his mouth.

“Anyway, I still have guests to entertain, we’ll be leaving in two days. There are opera singers waiting for me to arrive. Do you like opera, ser? It’s wonderful. I wish I could sing like them. I can sing actually, but not as high as them. I’ve heard it needs so much exercise-” None of them was paying attention to the other. Harry was rambling but his eyes were set on Louis, who looked miserable and yet managed to appear… how could Harry describe it? Simply breathtakingly beautiful.

It was odd. Harry never found Louis beautiful, he might have thought of him as handsome, but never beautiful. You have to be delicate, sweet, fragile to be beautiful, and seeing Louis so pained for some reason, a reason Harry probably guessed, conflicted the young prince. He found himself pitying the man his brother sent to spy on him, and at the same time, desiring him, with almost as much passion as he used to desire ser Liam with.

*

“We shall meet at midnight, on the shore, outside of the castle. Wait for me.” Louis has been reading that small note he found under the door of his chambers since he laid eyes on it. Read it, then reread it, trying to imagine that girl’s voice doing it or her delicate hands scribbling it.

He didn’t wait until midnight to get out, he did so ever since the sun started setting, mostly to run away from the loud music that he was forced to stand every single night, but also out of impatience. As every minute passed, his rib cage tightened more and more around his heart and lungs, he was out of breath and his heartbeat was so wild, it almost stopped when the clock stroke midnight.

He waited for a couple more minutes, sitting on the cold, humid sand before getting up. He walked shortly before spotting the silhouette of a young lady, standing in the dark, not very far from the exit door of the castle. When she realized he had seen her, she started running, and not in the direction he hoped.

She entered back to the castle, but her immense dress naturally slowed her down enough for Louis to catch up on her. He opened the door only to be met with a dark, long corridor. Only one candle was still burning and he could see that she was holding it between her hands. She slowly raised it, making Louis think that she’d finally reveal her face but he was soon disappointed when it only reached her mouth that blew on it to plunge them in the dark.

“You like games.” Louis only stated, a tone of amusement clear in his voice. “You did tell me to meet at the shore, did you change your mind? I would have enjoyed a small stroll by the beach, personally. The castle is a bit boring.” He spoke while making small steps towards where he hoped she’d still be. “You’re not quite the talker, are you?”

Her perfume became stronger and stronger as he approached. His eyes slowly became more comfortable with the darkness and he could distinguish some forms. She was still standing there, in her expensive dress, her hands crossed behind her back, her hair up high in a bun.

He could feel her breathing, her frail chest rising up then coming back to its place at a crazy pace, and it satisfied him to know that she was probably as nervous as he was.

When he felt his boot step on some kind of fabric, he knew that he was close enough to feel her. His hand slowly rose and blindly looked for her face, before resting on top of her cheekbone. His thumb caressed it as he leaned, ready to receive and give another kiss, and perhaps more.

He suddenly felt her own palms wrap around his own. She slipped some kind of paper between his fingers before pressing her lips against his cheek. That was all she did before fleeing again. He didn’t immediately react, as he has been expecting far more to happen during that night. He only stood there, dumbfounded as he heard her steps getting fainter by the second. When he finally recovered his senses and tried to follow her, it was as if she had vanished, as he found no trace of her.

*

“My carriages.” Prince Harry was stubborn, too stubborn for his own good. “And my guards.” He swore he wouldn’t leave home in Louis’ carriage and didn’t trust his security either. “We’ll use your carriage but I will not trust myself or yourself with any guards other than the king’s.” Louis replied firmly, finally satisfying the prince.

“We have a deal then.”

“Also, none of your pets, your friends or any other thing or person is invited, so please-” The prince was starting to feel in danger. He was expecting for his brother to be cold and scold him about his fine relationship with their enemies or about how he likes to ridiculize his name in public, nothing more, and one of the girls keeping him company would surely not stop that. “And why is that?”

“King’s orders.”

Harry looked suspiciously at Louis who was waiting in the grand hall, for the prince to finish preparing himself. “Well, I had some other plans, actually. I’ll see how I can adapt.”

The prince quickly left, followed by no less than ten young girls, maids and friends, or both, and Louis, being left alone, slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket to find the letter he so carefully placed there, after reading it for more than a hundred times.

“Louis dearest, it might seem to you that I have been playing with your heart and mind. I have not. It is just that I couldn’t bring myself to allow a love as grandiose as ours could have been to be born, knowing that it would end tragically. Wars and conflicts have killed a love that wasn’t even born. I hope I will see you again, when peace settles between our kingdoms again. H.S. of England.”

*

Harry was a fine diplomat, and an even better politician than one could imagine. Having always opposing the war separating the two neighbouring countries, he saw in Louis’ desperation the perfect opportunity to have him switch sides and stop supporting the war. All it took was a nice dress, Sarah’ favourite fragrance, a kiss and a small letter.

If Louis stopped supporting the conflict, the king would naturally change his mind too, as Louis’ confidence was considerable. Harry gained nothing at it, but he believed that the war’s expenses were draining the country and the people and he wished for it to stop.

Satisfied with himself, he packed a few clothes -no dresses, he didn’t need another war between him and his brother-, presents for his mother, his nephews and nieces, his brother’s wife and Liam, if they even meet. He also could not forget his golden tea, his french wine, his german biscuits nor his italian perfume. 

“I am ready. Oh, what- what is that? A letter from my brother, perhaps?” Harry faked confusion when he was met with a dreamy Louis, holding a piece of paper between his hands. “Oh, no, its- hum, personal.”

“Oh, well. You have a lover then. Interesting. I never pictured you with a lover. But what can we do-” Harry was royalty and it was highly inappropriate to interrupt him but Louis couldn’t help himself. “It is from my sister.” He replied firmly, making Harry nod in understanding. 

“Was it Charlotte? I’ve heard she’s engaged. I hope I am invited to the wedding. Wasn’t she my peer? Isn’t she a bit young to wed? Oh, boy, married at eighteen, it must be hard. What does she like in general? I have been thinking of offering her pets as a present. Does she like birds? A man here sells some beauties. And they sing too, better than any opera singer, I tell you-” As the prince kept rambling, Louis only hoped to drift to sleep soon so he could finally dream of his green-eyed beauty in peace.


End file.
